Quentin Willson triumphs over his own common sense and buys himself a Citroën 2CV
The latest addition to my garage might raise some eyebrows – my wife’s included – but it brings back fond memories. Time to make some new ones?
Ihave a confession. I’ve just bought a Citroën 2CV. With a home near Bordeaux, a left-hand-drive, Frenchregistered Deux Chevaux would have been a great idea for summer trundling around St Emilion. But no, mine’s a Uk-supplied right-hand drive, which as my wife has repeatedly reminded me, will be totally useless in France. But like some sentimental zookeeper, I had to save this one. You see, this red 1988 2CV Special has had two owners from new – the last for 28 years – has done 70,000 genuine miles and came with a sheaf of paperwork, the original service book and even its oil change intervals sticker on the windscreen. This sort of originality and provenance is very rare because owners usually rotated faster than at a swingers party. There’s also the bonus of a recent galvanised chassis and a small hill of spares, provided by its sad-to-see-her-go elderly owner. With a little paint, fettling and a few bits from the two Uk-based 2CV parts specialists, she can be saved and brought back to shiny factory nick ready for another 33 years. That was my plan, anyway.
I’m as surprised as you are, but not a little excited. Because many years ago I sold 2CVS for fun. In the mid Eighties, to break the drudgery of trading Sierras, Cavaliers and Granadas, I’d buy Tin Snails from hard-up Greenpeace protesters in kaftans and opentoed sandals, peel off the CND and Savethe-whale-stickers, polish away all traces of cause-fighting and resell them, mint and sparkling, to suburban mums in pearls from Fulham and Battersea.
I counted them all up one day (the 2CVS, not the women from South London) and in total I’ve had 36 – along with a few Dyanes and Meharis – and developed a life-long love for their sheer ingenuity. That same affection made me once drive a Beachcomber version to St Tropez (a four-day epic that I wouldn’t repeat) and learn all about their various foibles. I bet you didn’t know that Ford Dove Grey (a Sixties Cortina MKI colour) is an almostperfect match for the original colour of the 2CV’S bumpers and wheels. Thought not.
I’d like to think that for younger readers restricted by low budgets and high insurance premiums, a 2CV could make a useful, entertaining classic – and with the recent rises in prices – a decent investment too. Maybe my desire to save this one might not be so half-crazed after all.
I’ve just interrupted this narrative to collect E206 BNB and on the sunny drive home the memories of why I have such regard for these cars elbowed their way back: the sweet air-cooled 602cc flat-twin, the push-me-pull-you gear lever, the rut-smoothing suspension, the fabric roof and those flappy side windows that work with such minimalist efficiency.
I’ve just checked the VIN and it looks like it could be one of the last few hundred cars built in the Paris factory before production switched to Portugal. There are also little black plastic plugs in various corners of the bodyshell to confirm it was Dinitrol rust-roofed from new. This is the gift that keeps on giving. So here’s the dilemma. Do I gently fettle this sound, solid and original 2CV and fill the pages of Our Cars to show how easy it is to recondition, or leave the enterprise to someone else? If there’s anybody out there who wants to swap their lhd 2CV for my rhd, we should talk.